


Under the Influence

by not_poignant



Series: The Fae Tales Verse - canon extras [14]
Category: Fae Tales - not_poignant, Original Work
Genre: Faedom Week, Fluff, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Laughter, M/M, Marijuana, post-Court of Five Thrones, very mild angst (especially by Fae Tales standards)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 01:57:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21153683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_poignant/pseuds/not_poignant
Summary: Ash and Gwyn are happily mellow, and Augus comes back to talk to them about what's been bothering Gwyn lately.





	Under the Influence

**Author's Note:**

> For [Faedom Week - Day 4: Under the Influence](https://faedom-week.tumblr.com/post/187470630767/faedom-week-oct-21st-oct-27th-faedom-week)
> 
> I love writing little moments like this, even if, ultimately, they don't really progress the plot or anything. Just...a nice moment between found family. Set post-_The Court of Five Thrones_ but pre-_The Ice Plague_

Augus came back from harvesting herbs in his new lake – it would feel new for decades – and smelled the Cannabis in the air and realised what Gwyn and Ash had been doing. He almost laughed. This didn't happen often - about once or twice a year - because Gwyn was always so embarrassed afterwards. But it was good for him to unwind and relax, and Ash had a knack for guiding him through it.

He entered the lounge and found Gwyn lying on the couch. His head was tipped off the cushion, and his legs were straight up in the air, resting against the back of the couch. He looked ridiculous. Nearby, Ash had a joint resting in his fingers and he beamed at Augus happily.

'Broski,' Ash said.

'Please stop.'

'The very best brother,' Ash said.

'Oh, is Augus here?' Gwyn said. He opened his eyes and looked so pleased that Augus felt that warm glow that he was becoming accustomed to. Saccharine and hideous and a normal part of his life now, no matter how hard things got, or how many assassination attempts he had to contend with. 'Are you back early?'

'No,' Augus said. 'And how long have you two been like this?'

'A while. He's pretty mellow,' Ash said. 'Actually, we both are. Come join us?'

'In a moment,' Augus said.

He disappeared into the bathroom and washed his hands, then his face. The sap from the poisonous lotuses he was harvesting was acrid and bitter, and it could burn the eyes of other fae. He loved the lotuses, blossoming in the colours of flame or ice, living healthily on the surface of his lake, but he'd once touched Gwyn with his fingers and watched the skin blister away, kicking himself for not remembering. He wasn't normally so careless, and he wouldn't be careless again. Especially when Gwyn was feeling 'mellow' in the first place.

Gwyn was still in the same position when Augus exited the bathroom. His eyes were closed once more. Augus sat next to him, his back alongside Gwyn's legs. It put him in the perfect position to place his hand on Gwyn's belly. And instead of flinching or looking hunted or caught, Gwyn just sighed happily and made a pleased humming noise.

'You _are _relaxed,' Augus said, rubbing over his shirt at the taut skin beneath.

'Feel like he needed it,' Ash said.

As always, Ash was far more alert. He had a higher tolerance, but Augus also felt that Ash stayed far more sober than Gwyn in order to keep an eye on him, and he was grateful for that foresight.

'He's been going through a lot lately.' Ash looked at Gwyn. 'Haven't you?'

'No,' Gwyn said. But his voice was evasive, and Augus sighed.

He was pushing himself too hard, as he so often did. Even Augus hadn't been able to stop him this time, which made him think something else lurked beneath.

'It's nothing,' Gwyn said.

'We talked a little about his childhood today,' Ash said. 'Didn't we?'

'No,' Gwyn said, sounding sulky now, but he calmed as Augus stroked his flank.

Augus was surprised. Gwyn was very protective of his past around Ash, even as they became allies and even friends. Augus couldn't blame Gwyn, given how Ash had treated him in the past, and how much Gwyn was embarrassed by his history. He still blamed himself for so much of what happened to him, and there were times it was clear he felt that his parents treated him the right way, always, and that it was Gwyn who had failed them over and over again.

'He told me a bit about Master Ethlynn,' Ash said conversationally, watching Gwyn as closely as Augus was. 'And we talked about some of the things he used to learn about. And about how he used to keep hounds.'

'Mm,' Gwyn managed and then opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. His face was flushed, but Augus suspected that was because it was hanging off the couch cushion. He couldn't imagine it was comfortable, but Gwyn seemed truly relaxed. 'I had really nice hounds.'

'And how his father killed them,' Ash added.

'And my horse, once,' Gwyn said.

'Yeah,' Ash said, looking at Augus now. 'You know, normal childhood stuff.'

‘Yes,' Gwyn said.

'I see,' Augus said, exhaling. 'Is this the sort of thing you've been thinking about lately?'

Gwyn nodded, and then shifted awkwardly until he could rest his head on Augus' thigh, his legs now hanging over the armrest instead. He was so tall that he tended to dwarf any couch that he lay on, and now was no exception. It put him in the perfect position for Augus to pet his hair, and he played with it and smiled at the way Gwyn went lax again. Yes, he wasn't a huge fan of mind-altering substances outside of scenes, but Ash had landed on something really quite exceptional with this. He doubted Gwyn would ever trust Augus with it, but he trusted Ash, and that was good enough.

‘Any particular reason?’ Augus said.

‘No,’ Gwyn said. Again, it was evasive.

Ash sighed, and Augus looked down at Gwyn and knew that he was afraid of getting into trouble. Sometimes he’d share things with Ash that he didn’t want Augus to know. After a couple of minutes with no explanation, he looked to Ash.

‘Gwyn’s been fetching some affects from the An Fnwy estate,’ Ash said.

‘I haven’t.’ Gwyn’s voice was mutinous, and his brow furrowed, but he could only maintain it for a few seconds before his face went lax again. Augus drew a spiral on his forehead, and then smoothed over his eyebrows.

He was careful with how he responded. He loathed that Gwyn felt compelled to visit every couple of years, and he tended to hide it from Augus. But Augus couldn’t conceal how much he disliked that place and everything it had done to Gwyn, yet it was impossible to expect Gwyn not to be attached to the place that had raised him.

‘Don’t be mad,’ Gwyn said.

‘I’m not,’ Augus said.

‘Don’t be disappointed.’

‘I’m not,’ Augus lied.

‘I wanted the books the kennel keeper and stable-master used to keep,’ Gwyn said. ‘I couldn’t find them all. But I found some.’

Augus stayed silent. He looked between Ash and Gwyn, and knew there was more to come.

‘I’d never read them before,’ Gwyn said. ‘Because he had to record all the puppy culls, and father culled so many.’

‘Did he?’

‘Sometimes there were whole seasons where the bitches just didn’t make good enough pups, and he’d cull a whole generation and start again. It didn’t matter if the bitches and dogs were older, and he’d never think to adopt them out.’

‘Sucks,’ Ash said eloquently.

Personally, Augus thought that was a perfectly fine way to conduct dog breeding, if one was aiming for the best of its kind, but he was obviously in the minority and decided to say nothing about it. Especially as he was certain that Lludd happily killed dogs just because he could, and that he likely enjoyed thinning out his hounds under the excuse of breeding the best ones. Lludd knew that it caused Gwyn so much anguish.

Gwyn was a fine hunter, but as someone who preferred to only hunt for food, he carried within him that eternal paradox of loving and cherishing all animals, while still knowing the best ways to kill them. Augus had seen Gwyn look upon moths and butterflies and spiders with wonder, and had watched him fell the White Stag with a single arrow or the clever strike of a blade. But loving life on its own terms meant that Lludd’s easy cruelty harmed him.

‘But the kennel keeper had recorded all the times he needed to put the kennels back to rights, and I didn’t know that. I’d never thought about how much extra work it was, and I should have stayed and fixed it.’

‘Fixed what?’ Augus said.

He had a sneaking suspicion he knew, and his head dropped back to rest against the couch cushion. He and Ash shared a long look.

‘Oh, well,’ Gwyn said. ‘After Lludd was wroth with me, you understand.’

‘I do,’ Augus said.

_You mean after he’d beaten you half to death and likely taken some of the stables or kennels down with his violence. _

‘And sometimes Efnisien,’ Gwyn added. ‘Though I tried to keep him away from the stables and kennels. Even Lludd didn’t like him going there.’

‘Ah.’

In truth, it wasn’t worth being disappointed in Gwyn over these matters. The past had to wriggle its way out somehow, and Gwyn was compelled in moments to do things that would force it to the surface. Augus had to hope it was some unconscious way of seeking healing, and not some deep-seated self-destructive bent.

‘It seems like Lludd should have been the one to put things back to rights, not you.’

‘Or maybe he shouldn’t’ve been such a dick in the first place,’ Ash said, taking a long drag from the joint, then balancing it neatly on his fingers.

‘Maybe,’ Gwyn said, his voice sleepy.

His eyes were closed, and his breathing was slowing. He’d not been distressed at all, talking about the things that were bothering him, and that was a marvel. He’d been reluctant at first, but here he was, close to dozing and happy for Augus to fuss over and pet him.

‘He was so violent,’ Gwyn said, as though it was a wondrous thing. ‘I never saw him upon the battlefield, for he preferred to fight at sea, with ships and cannons, but I can imagine it.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Augus said primly, ‘but he literally died on a battlefield by falling badly on his own sword. He wasn’t _that _good.’

Ash burst into laughter. ‘What?’

‘You didn’t know?’ Augus said, looking at him, and then he smiled. ‘I suppose it wouldn’t have filtered through to you in the human realm. But yes, that’s how Lludd died. Tripped and fell, and by the time they tried to cover it up to make it look like a noble death, the rumours had spread.’

Gwyn – to Augus’ surprise – giggled.

Ash laughed again, looking genuinely pleased at the thought, but it was Gwyn’s small giggle that struck at Augus’ heart. Augus stared down at his Unseelie marvel, and straightened one of his curls, holding it in place before letting it go and watching it bounce back into place.

Gwyn seemed to calm, but then a couple of breaths later he started laughing, his face creasing and his eyes still closed. He lay a heavy hand over his face and snorted like a schoolboy, and Augus stared at him and realised he had never seen him laugh like this. Not in all the years he’d known him. Not once. And here he was, laughing and giggling over the death of his father.

‘Oh?’ Augus said, amused. ‘Do you find the way he died fitting?’

Gwyn nodded, still laughing.

‘He would have hated it,’ Gwyn wheezed. ‘Gods, he would have hated it so much. I hope he knew. I hope he knew as he died.’

‘You little beast,’ Augus said, shaking him, a small grin of delight on his face.

‘I bet he did,’ Ash said.

‘Yes,’ Gwyn said. ‘I think about that sometimes.’

‘Do you ever think about it on the battlefield?’ Ash asked.

Gwyn nodded, and whatever he was remembering sent him into a fresh round of silent laughter, and Augus found it as contagious as Ash’s laughter, shaking his head. It took a surprisingly long time for Gwyn to stop, and there was still the hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

Gwyn took a long breath, sighed it out. ‘I’m so glad he’s dead.’

‘Truer words, friend,’ Ash said, looking pensive, given how pleased he’d looked only a minute before.

Augus knew that Ash carried the burden of Gwyn’s past heavily. He didn’t have the heart to offer him comfort, because it was pleasing to have some solidarity. Ash had picked up some of Augus’ vigilance around Gwyn, and as a result it felt safer to hunt, or to spend time in his lake, knowing that others were keeping an eye on the King.

‘If we expand the kennels,’ Gwyn said, turning to his side and yawning, ‘we won’t cull the puppies.’

‘That sounds like a wonderful idea,’ Augus said, even though he didn’t love dogs, or puppies, or the idea of the Unseelie Court becoming a place where people might find new hounds for themselves. There were times to disagree with everything Gwyn was saying. But that wasn’t right now.

‘I’m not like him,’ Gwyn said sleepily, almost under his breath. ‘Not much, anyway.’

Ash looked at Gwyn for a long time, his eyes narrowing, and Augus watched Ash. Beneath Augus’ gentle hands, Gwyn fell into a heavy doze.

‘So that’s what it was,’ Augus said, looking up at Ash.

‘Yeah,’ Ash said. ‘But he’s not like him, is he?’

‘Not in any way that counts,’ Augus said. But, truthfully, he thought that Gwyn was remarkably like Lludd at times. For all accounts, Lludd was a purposeful, driven, ambitious man with a cruel streak on the battlefield. Gwyn was all of those things, and it was a mistake to see his softness and not note the hardness alongside it. Augus knew better than anyone that Gwyn could be cruel for the sake of it. ‘But I suppose we’d best find a way to house the puppies he doesn’t want.’

‘I’m going to lay a bet now that he’ll keep them all,’ Ash said, slipping down the armchair until he could hook his legs over the armrest. He kept smoking after that, and Augus kept stroking Gwyn’s hair, thinking of the way Gwyn had giggled, the way he’d returned to the An Fnwy estate with all the memories it held, to educate himself further about raising hounds. He thought of how Gwyn ran the Kingdom with as much fairness and grace as he could.

‘You are the best parts of that family,’ Augus said to him, glad that Gwyn couldn’t hear him.

When he looked up, Ash’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Never heard him laugh like that before.’

‘Me either,’ Augus said.

‘Shit, really?’ Ash said, and smiled ruefully. ‘Well, that’s just fucking sad.’

‘Is it?’ He knew it was, but his heart was lighter for having heard that boyish glee. ‘I will take the progress where I can, brother.’

As Ash made a sound of agreement, Augus rubbed Gwyn’s chest and replayed the sound of that giggle, and thought that he wasn’t one for making people laugh, but that it might be worth finding ways to get him to laugh like that again.


End file.
